Twenty Two
by EthyleneGlycol
Summary: They say good things come to those who wait.  Except to Harry Potter that is.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter isn't mine. If it were, I'd be rich.

**A/N**: This story borrows a few elements from Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows, but for the most part is heavily AU, especially in regards to the epilogue.

**One**

It had been twenty-two years since the war had ended, Voldemort was dead and buried; the world had finally emerged from the darkness that had covered it for nearly thirty years. Harry Potter was still stuck in this darkness. Even though he was no longer haunted by Voldemort and his followers, he had never been able to find the happiness that so many had promised he would find after the fulfillment of the prophecy.

"Pass the potatoes, wouldn't you, Harry?"

He passed the potatoes to Hermione, not acknowledging her thanks. His friends were used to this. He had chosen to ignore the fact that everyone was trying to express their gratitude towards him for saving them from the Dark Lord, instead choosing to act like it was an everyday occurrence for somebody to defeat the most malevolent and powerful wizard in several centuries and why can't everyone just get on with their lives already? And they had, for the most part. The problem was Harry Potter had no life to return to.

"So, mate, how do you think the Arrows are going to do this year?"

He had tried playing Quidditch for several years after Voldemort's demise. He had proved exceptionally good at it, leading the Appleby Arrows to three league titles in the seven years he had played for them. Quidditch had been ruined by an adoring public. Harry often said that being forced to suffer through fan adoration was akin to being subjected to a street full of Dementors.

"Their seeker is rubbish, of course." He said with a small smile.

"Better than the Cannons, anyway," Ron grumbled.

"Not exactly a tall order, that," Fred commented from Ron's other side.

They were all at the monthly Weasley gathering, Harry and Hermione included, of course. The family had drifted after the war, no one seeing anyone else for at least a year or two, and in Charlie's case, seven. The deaths of Percy and Bill had hit the family hard, and with the general weariness that set in after the war, everyone went their separate ways. Ron and Hermione had left Harry behind when they decided to take a trip around the world at twenty, and had come back married to different people a year and a half later. Hermione met her husband in a magical library at the Vatican. Ron met his wife in a pub in Bristol.

It was with their return that Molly put her foot down. With everyone now back on English soil—with the exception of Charlie, who no one could track down—they were going to be a family again; the monthly dinners were born.

"How's work coming along, Harry?" asked Molly.

Harry, to the surprise of everyone, including himself, had decided to pursue a career in Healing after his sudden retirement from Quidditch. Ron had thought he was insane for giving up Quidditch, but Hermione had been supportive. Everyone else was bemused by his decision, but it made sense to him. He had seen enough pain in his life—some of it caused by himself, much of it caused by others—and decided he wanted to try and ease some of that pain

"That's nice, dear," Molly vaguely answered to Harry's explanation of a new spell to heal heart damage he had invented with a co-worker. He knew she didn't really understand what he was telling her, but he knew she enjoyed listening to him talk about it all the same.

"Now answer me this," she said, her careworn face breaking into a smile, "are we going to be meeting the future Mrs. Potter soon?"

Harry had forgotten about the latest article in Witch Weekly. He had been Britain's most eligible bachelor for nineteen years running, with no end in sight. It seemed the magazine had made it their mission to irritate Harry by bringing out an article every now and then speculating on his personal life.

"Um, no, Molly," he said, trying to control a stammer threatening to take control, "I haven't found her yet."

She put a hand on his arm. "You'll find the right person eventually. It wouldn't be right for you to end up alone after all you've been through."

His smile was one tinged with sadness. He often felt like giving up all hope on ever finding a wife. Every relationship he had been in, and there was no shortage of them to pick from, had either ended with her crumbling under the pressure of dating Harry Potter, or with complaints of his emotional distance, baggage, and whatever it was women usually said when things weren't working out. Truth be told, he did have someone in mind, looking down the table, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

A ringing sound interrupted his thoughts. Arthur was trying to get the attention of the table by tapping his fork against his glass. This alone caused a silence to descend around the table. Arthur trying to get the attention of everyone was highly unusual.

"Alright, um…" he cleared his throat. "Ginny has something she'd like to say."

She blushed as she rose, tucking some of the hair that fell in front of her face behind her ear. "I'm getting married," she said, simply. She looked around the table, finally making eye contact with Harry. He stared into her caramel-colored eyes, and not breaking her gaze, stood up and began to applaud, the rest of the Weasley family following suit. Molly couldn't contain her excitement, rushing around the table to embrace her daughter.

Harry, standing on the periphery of the coalescence of Weasleys, turned around and made his way slowly towards the gate, wanting to apparate out of there before he would be missed. Hermione met his eyes before he disappeared, the only one there who would know why Harry was not pleased with this news. Nodding to her, he turned on the spot, the last thing in his vision a blur of red.

* * *

><p><em>He, Hermione, and Ron had disappeared from the very same spot on the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding.<em>

_A blur of red was the last thing he saw._

* * *

><p>Three days later, Hermione appeared on his doorstep.<p>

"How are you, Harry?" she asked, as he poured her a cup of tea.

"Fine."

"You haven't been to work in three days, Harry."

"So? I'm entitled to take a little time off now and then. Merlin knows I get more than enough vacation days."

"You never take time off of work."

"Neither do you."

"This isn't about me."

Harry sighed, pushing his hair back on his head. "So I was a little upset by the news on Saturday. You, of all people, should understand why."

"If you just told Ginny how you feel…"

Harry stood, angrily pacing in front of Hermione. "She'd what? Throw away everything just because of me? It's been over twenty years Hermione, I think it's a little late for talking."

"What are you going to do then?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? If you're really sure how you feel about her, then you have to do something. You're forty years old, Harry. You don't want to grow old alone."

He stopped by the window, taking in the view of downtown London provided by his townhouse. The grey, chilly day outside perfectly mirrored his thoughts.

"Maybe I'm supposed to, Hermione. When was the last time a figurehead for the Light lived a quiet life in the country with a wife and a couple of kids? Maybe this is just another part of Dumbledore's legacy passed down to me."

Hermione came to stand beside Harry at the window, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry…"

"Did I tell you that McGonagall visited me last week, offering me the Dark Arts job next term?" Harry said, changing the subject. "Apparently Kingsley is thinking about running for Minister again and doesn't want to commit for another year."

"That sounds like a wonderful opportunity," Hermione said, after taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "But you'd be shutting yourself away at Hogwarts for ten months a year."

"That's why I'm thinking about taking it," Harry replied, turning to face Hermione, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes dull. "It'd probably be best for everyone."

Hermione threw up her hands and balled them into fists at her hip, glaring at him. "Damn it, Harry, this is ridiculous. Shutting yourself away at Hogwarts would help no one, much less you. Stop being such a bitch and do something."

Harry's eyes widened at this. "But Hermione…"

"No, Harry, but nothing. Whatever happened to the stubborn young man who defeated Voldemort? You can kill the greatest dark wizard in centuries, but you can't tell someone how you feel about them?"

"It's not like that, Hermione."

"Then why don't you tell me what it like, because from what I can tell, all I see is you, wanting to shut yourself away from everyone again."

"The Weasleys have made it all quite clear they don't want Ginny and I involved. Something about not wanting to subject her to what being my wife would entail."

He stopped, looking at Hermione, his arms open in a gesture of supplication. Instead of receiving some sort of comfort from Hermione, it was just the opposite. She slapped him. Not expecting this, he stumbled back against the wall, sliding to the floor. She crouched down to look him in the eyes, sticking a finger in his face in the process.

"Now you listen here, Harry Potter. I know damn well that the only thing between you and Ginny is yourself. If you want to figure out someway to at least let Ginny know how you feel, I'll help you. But if you don't, then I don't know what's going to happen, because I sure know I don't want to be around your miserable self once Ginny is out of your reach."

Grabbing her purse off of the coffee table, she walked out the door without another word, a loud crack in the hallway signaling her departure. He picked himself up off the wall, waving his wand at the forgotten tea to warm it up. He sat on the couch, sipping tea, and trying to get his thoughts under control. Hermione was right. It wasn't the Weasleys who had stopped Harry from trying to get together with Ginny. They had vacillated on the issue, but had never really said anything for or against a relationship between the two of them. In fact, once they got over their shock, he was sure Molly and Arthur would be ecstatic.

It was the Weasley brothers, especially Ron, who worried Harry. Accepting him as their brother meant it was up to him to protect Ginny, an opinion held most strongly by Ron, as he was the closest in age to their sister. Harry couldn't blame them when they thought that being with him would hurt Ginny, as he didn't want to subject her to what being his wife would entail either. But he could not silence his traitorous heart.

* * *

><p>"<em>I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together."<em>

_As Harry all too painfully discovered, those few weeks had indeed been out of somebody else's life._

* * *

><p>It had been a month since that fateful day, and as the monthly dinner neared, Harry found himself looking for a way out of attending. Hermione had let him know, in no small part, that she would be very displeased with him if he began avoiding the Weasley family, just because he was a coward. Harry had not been happy to hear that from someone who was supposed to be sympathetic to his cause, and it was for that reason he found himself trying to look extra impressive on this particular Saturday morning.<p>

"Fucking hair, never…lies…flat…" Each word was punctuated with a violent downward stroke of a comb through his unruly map. All this violent combing did was make his scalp hurt, making his already foul mood even more foul. "How are you going to impress her if you can't even get your hair to lie flat, Potter?"

It had been a few years since Harry had tried to impress a woman. The last real relationship he had had was three years ago, but she had ended it due to accusations of "aloofness" and "general disregard for her wellbeing." After this catastrophe, Harry had realized there was only one woman out there for him, but something had always prevented him from taking that next step with her.

* * *

><p><em>He spotted Ginny two tables away; she was sitting with her head on her mother's shoulder. There would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk<em>.

_Those hours, days, and years never materialized._

* * *

><p>"Damn it, Harry, why did you come at all if you're going to just hide in the kitchen the whole time?" Hermione said to him, as she found him trying to look inconspicuous inside of the Burrow.<p>

"Because I was afraid you'd curse me if I didn't."

"If you don't come out of here and talk to someone, I may still curse you." She glared at him. "Don't tempt me, Harry."

A reluctant Harry—hair still all over the place—emerged from the kitchen a while later, following in Hermione's wake. Ignoring Hermione's frown, he quickly made his way over to the buffet table, where Ron, Fred, and George were discussing the current state of their joke shop.

"Why it's our illustrious investor, come to grace us with his presence!" said George, by way of greeting.

Harry rolled his eyes. "How are things down at the shop? I haven't had a chance to glance through this quarter's statements yet."

"Business is booming, as usual," said Fred. "We're thinking about expanding into clothing. Have you seen some of the t-shirts Muggles wear? If we can take the same idea, but adapt the style, slogans, and images into something friendly to the Wizarding public…"

"Galleons," supplied Ron.

"Lots of Galleons," added Fred.

"Loads and loads of Galleons," finished George.

Harry laughed. "I understand, guys."

A nervous looking man approached the four of them. He was about average height, with close-cropped brown hair, brown eyes, and a slightly stocky build. His face was of the type that a person first meeting him would swore they know somebody just like him and perhaps they had already met you look so familiar.

"Jordan! How wonderful to see you again!" said Fred, wrapping an arm around the man, who looked like wanted to be anywhere but there. "The fellow who is planning on stealing our ickle Gin-Gin away from all of us."

He extricated himself from Fred's grasp, adjusting his thick plastic glasses as he did so. He looked around the group, noticing Harry for the first time. "Blimey! You're Harry Potter. Ginny said you were a friend of the family, but I don't believe we've had a chance to meet yet." He extended his hand. "Jordan Parker."

Harry shook it. "Harry Potter."

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter. Of course, I had grown up knowing all about you, and then when you defeated the Dark Lord…" Harry put up a hand to stop his gushing.

"That was quite a few years ago, Mr. Parker, and you may understand why I may be reluctant to speak about the topic." Harry said, curtly. "But thank you, all the same.

"Of course, Mr. Potter, of course. And you can call me Jordan."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Jordan stared expectantly at Harry, waiting for a reciprocating response. Seeing nothing and wanting to escape the awkward silence which had settled over the group, he made his escape, Harry watching him all the way. Once Jordan was out of earshot, the three Weasley brothers started laughing.

"I'll keep that in mind," intoned Fred. "Brilliant, Harry."

Harry smiled ruefully. "Can't let him get too comfortable before the wedding, now can we?"

"Of course not," said Ron. "If he expects to marry our sister, he needs to know what he's dealing with."

As they all murmured in agreement, Harry couldn't help but notice Ron's inclusion of Harry when he said Ginny was their sister. Growing uncomfortable, he began to make his excuses.

"Well I should really get back," said Harry, over their protests. "I had forgotten about this when I agreed to pick up another healer's shift a few weeks ago. I'll just say goodbye to your parents and head out of here."

He turned around, finding himself face-to-face with Hermione.

"So what did you think of, Jordan?" she asked, with an overly casual air.

"He seems like a nice bloke," responded Harry. "Maybe a bit bland, but as long as he makes Ginny happy, that's all that matters." He looked over at the two of them. They were talking to Arthur and Molly; Jordan appeared to have told a delightful joke that had them all laughing at the boring little man's amazing wit how he wanted to take his neck…

Hermione's voice distracted him from his thoughts. "You're a horrible liar, Harry. Which is why I also know you don't have to work tonight, either."

"Do so." He responded, childishly.

"You need to tell her how you feel. You may be too late, but do you really want to go the rest of your life knowing you may have missed your best chance at happiness?"

"My happiness doesn't matter. I defeated a Dark Lord to save the Wizarding World and make sure everyone else could find happiness after those dark days. If everyone else is safe happy, I'm happy."

Hermione was taken aback at this. She had unshed tears in her eyes. "Oh, Harry…"

Harry ran his hands through his hair. "I'm tired, Hermione. I just want to say my goodbyes and go home."

"This isn't over, Harry."

Ignoring her, he walked over to Ginny and her parents, arranging his face into a careful expression of neutrality.

"The food was wonderful as usual, Molly, but I'm afraid I unthinkingly picked up another healer's shift last month and need to get back home and get ready for work."

"Oh, Harry, isn't that a shame," she said, wrapping him in a hug. "You take care of yourself, now, and we'll see you next month. Make sure you don't have to work."

He shook hands with Arthur and turning to Ginny and Jordan, he steeled himself for what he was about to say.

"I know I was lost in the shuffle last month so I didn't get to say this then, but congratulations you two. I know you'll make each other very happy. Ginny and her wand will make sure of that." They all laughed at that. He shook Jordan's hand, and turning to Ginny only hesitated slightly before giving her a warm hug. "I'm really happy for you, Gin." He said quietly, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek.

He gave them one last parting wave, and ignoring the odd look on Ginny's face, apparated back to his lonely flat.

* * *

><p><em>He had just sold the house he bought in the country after signing his first contract with the Arrows. Hermione stood next to him at the front gate, the two of them looking up at the house for the last time.<em>

"_Why'd you sell it, Harry?"_

"_I have no one to share it with."_

* * *

><p>"Harry!" said the voice from the fireplace. "Harry! I know you're in there. Let me through."<p>

Harry sighed. Momentarily considering letting the person in the fireplace, who sounded suspiciously like Hermione, sit there.

"Hermione."

"Let me in, Harry."

"I don't know," he said. "I think we can talk just fine with you in there and me out here."

"Harry…"

"Fine, fine." With a flick of his wand, Hermione was standing on the carpet in front of the fireplace, covered head to foot in soot.

"You know," she said, as she waved her wand around herself, cleaning away the soot. "I really hate you sometimes."

Harry smiled at her, waggling his eyebrows in the process. Hermione sighed, but couldn't stop a small grin from gracing her face. She walked over to the couch, while Harry went to the kitchen, grabbing a kettle and a couple of mugs. He set the tea things down on the table and settle down into the chair across from Hermione, regarding her carefully.

"Have you talked to Ginny yet?" she said without preamble.

"No," he said, pouring himself a mug of tea.

"Why not?"

"I have no intention of doing so."

"Harry, I know you don't want to upset their relationship, but what about yours? How are you going to be able to carry on a friendship with her, and not resent Jordan, if you harbor this unrequited love for the rest of your life?"

"I told you, Hermione, if Ginny is happy, then I'm happy. All I want is for her to be happy." He looked away from Hermione and at the mantle over the fireplace. There were only a few photos there: one of his parents, another of him with Ron and Hermione. But it was the third one which captured his gaze. It was of him and Ginny during their sixth year, looking at each other under a tree by the lake. He usually put it away when he knew somebody would be over, but he hadn't been expecting Hermione's arrival.

Hermione noted his gaze, and crossed the room over to the fireplace, picking up the photo.

"Harry…"

"That was almost twenty-five years ago. It doesn't matter anymore."

"It apparently matters to you. Quite a bit I'd say." She set the photo down, turning to look at him.

"It was just never the right time, you know?" he said, a far away look in his eyes. "Everything after the war was such a mess and I only saw her a few times over the course of about five years and by the time I started to see her regularly again something always seemed to get in the way: her family, relationships, my own fear of rejection. There was always a reason to not say something."

Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder, Harry resting his hand on top of hers. They stood that way for a few moments, Harry taking what little solace he could in the fact that he still had a friend like her.

"You need to say something, Harry."

He sighed. "I know. But how?"

"Just tell her how you feel. It's been twenty plus years, I'm sure you have some idea of what you want to say."

"But what if she rejects me?"

"I hate to say it, Harry," she said, crossing over to the fireplace and throwing in some floo powder. "But you have nobody to blame but yourself."

She was gone in a rush of green flames, leaving Harry alone with only his thoughts and cold tea for company.

* * *

><p><em>He had been twenty-eight, drunk and depressed. He had just retired from professional Quidditch, and not knowing what to do now, drank himself into a stupor. He found himself on Ginny's doorstep. She answered her door, wearing pajamas and a dressing gown.<em>

"_Harry? What are you doing out there?" she said, hair tousled with sleep. "It's nearly one-thirty."_

_He looked around quizzically. "Out where? I'm right here?"_

_She laughed. He loved that laugh. "Harry, are you drunk?"_

_He smiled sheepishly. "Maybe."_

_She sighed, exasperatedly. "Come inside."_

_He followed her inside, it was the first time he had been to her London apartment. It was small, but very neatly kept. _

"_I'm afraid I don't have a guest room, but the couch isn't half-bad. But I suspect you won't care too much tonight."_

"_Ginny," he started, suddenly feeling clearheaded, "I want to tell you something."_

"_Now, Harry?" she laughed, pulling him over to the couch. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait until morning."_

_When he awoke the next morning, she was already gone._

* * *

><p>"Ginny."<p>

She opened the door. "Harry? What are you doing out there?"

He adjusted his glasses. "Could I come in? There's something I want to talk about."

She let him into her apartment, this one being quite a bit more spacious than the one he had visited twelve years ago. He hadn't visited her at home since. The living room consisted of leather furniture spaced around Muggle appliances. It was on one of the leather chairs he took a seat.

"I take it Jordan is a Muggle-born? I don't think I've even seen a TV and home theatre system in a wizard's home otherwise."

"Yep," she said, from the kitchen. "He also has a fetish for leather, as you can tell by the chair you're sitting in." She handed him a glass of water as she returned from the kitchen, taking a seat in the chair next to his. He looked at her; she didn't look a day over twenty-five. Her long, red hair was pulled back into a bun, framing her soft features and warm brown eyes. The splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose that Harry had found so irresistible as a sixteen year old were still there after all these years.

"It must be pretty important for you to come talk with me here." She laughed. "I didn't think you even knew where I lived."

He laughed uneasily. "I had to get your address from Hermione."

"So, what are you here for? Can't imagine you'd try and track me down if you just wanted to talk about Quidditch."

"Look, there's no easy way to put this, so I'll cut straight to the point." He paused, unsure how to continue. Ginny looked expectantly at him.

"I love you."

Ginny stared at him. "Well, Harry, I love you too. You're practically a brother to…"

"No, I mean I _love_ you."

The glass fell from Ginny's hands, its contents forgotten. Harry watched the storm gather on her beautiful face.

"You have some nerve," she said finally, a dangerous undertone in her voice.

"Ginny, I know I should have said something years ago, but…I mean…better late than never, eh?"

"No. Not better late than never. Never would have been much better."

"I know you're getting married in a few months, but I had to say something."

Ginny stood up, walking down one of the hallways. Harry sat there waiting anxiously, hoping she hadn't gone to get her wand or something heavy to throw at him.

"Here," she said, handing him something. "Now get out."

He unfolded the piece of paper. It was the same picture of them that had resided on his mantle for the past twenty-two years.

"Ginny…"

"I said get out."

"Can't we at least talk about this?" he asked, gazing at the picture of the two of them.

"The time for talking is over, Harry. If you wanted to talk about this, you should have said something a decade ago. Or at more than a few months before my wedding!"

"I'm sorry, Ginny."

She looked at him, arms crossed, face stony. He walked towards the door, head down. Not paying attention, he ran into something in the hallway.

"Harry!" said a someone, not something. "So good to see you!"

Harry shook his hand. "Nice to see you too, Jordan, but I was just leaving. I really must get back."

"That's a shame. Perhaps you could come over for dinner sometime?"

Harry glanced back at Ginny, wincing at the look on her face. "Maybe."

He walked out the door, hearing the quiet murmur of voices on the other side. He still had the picture Ginny had given him clutched in his hand. He looked at it, feeling himself transported back to that warm summer day before everything went so completely wrong. A single tear leaked out of his tightly shut eyes, landing on the picture. He took a deep breath and touched his wand to the picture, watching it burn. He was gone before the ashes hit the ground.

A/N2: There you have it, I hope you enjoyed reading it. I'm actually unsure, at the moment, as to whether I'm going to write a second part. I have some ideas (hopefully good ones) for a second chapter, but I also kind of like ending it on this bittersweet and sort of unhappy note.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is not mine. If it were, I'd have millions of dollars, which I don't, so it isn't.

**Two**

_It was two days after Ginny's Hogwarts Graduation. Harry had managed to finagle a few days off from the Arrows—offhand comments about how any team in the league would be happy to have him notwithstanding—and was at the Burrow, celebrating with the rest of the Weasley family._

_The July evening was warm and humid, the moisture in the air clinging to bodies as one tried to move as little as possible. Harry, not one to follow a crowd, walked away from the Weasleys lounging in a circle, conversing quietly in the light cast by the floating lamps. He had only one goal in mind, having seen her walk off a little while ago. He found her at the edge of the Weasley's pond._

"_Hey, Harry."_

"_How'd you know it was me?"_

"_Your reflection." She said, pointing to the pond. There he was, his face visible in the moonlight on the pond. Ginny's already pale features had an almost ethereal glow about them in the pond, her fiery red hair framing her face. Harry fell in love with her once again._

_He sat down next to her, a companionable silence stretching between the two of them. They sat like that for almost an hour, the only sound was the rhythm of their gentle breathing, the only movement was that of a hand to brush away an insect. Harry wished they could sit like that forever, basking in the very presence of each other, no need for words and gestures. But it was getting late, and it was only a matter of time before Mrs. Weasley came looking for them._

"_Ginny?" he said, quietly._

"_Mmmm?"_

"_Have you ever thought about what you're going to do now?"_

_She was silent for a few moments. "Not really. I've given a thought to healing, but I don't know if I really have the temperament for it."_

"_I'm sure you'd make a wonderful healer, Ginny."_

"_Regardless, I think I'd really like to try my hand at Quidditch. But I was injured for the only Gryffindor match the scouts were there for, and it's not exactly easy to schedule a personal tryout when you're not Harry Potter." He started to protest. "Settle down, Harry. Anyone who has watched you play knows you earned your way onto the pitch, fair and square."_

"_I could maybe talk to a few people and get you a tryout with one of the teams. Mind you, it'll probably be somebody dreadful like Falmouth or Chudley, but it's a start."_

"_You'd do that for me, Harry?"_

_He looked directly into her warm brown eyes. "Anything."_

_She shifted uncomfortably. "Harry…"_

_It was now or never. "Ginny, I know it's been almost two years, but I'd like to be back in your life, if you'd let me."_

_She just looked at him, unblinkingly. Harry started to panic._

"_I mean, if you want to, of course. It's just that, now with you out of school and with my life starting to find some kind of routine…I mean…it's just…I've never been happier than when I was with you."_

"_It's been a long time, Harry. We've barely seen each other since Dumbledore's funeral."_

"_That doesn't matter to me, Ginny. A lot of things have changed over two years, but I know my love for you hasn't."_

"_Oh, Harry…" She said, sadly._

_This wasn't going as planned, thought Harry. He was supposed to confess her love for her and then she'd take him back with open arms. Or at least after she thoroughly took him to task for not acting on his feelings sooner. Her voice wasn't supposed to be filled with sorrow, her eyes clouded with pain._

"_I don't know if I can give you what you want, Harry."_

"_I don't want anything from you, Ginny. I just want…no…I need you. I don't want to be apart anymore."_

"_Harry," she said. "I think the girl you loved, the Ginny you loved, is gone."_

_He stood up, trying to keep his rising temper out of his posture and voice. "I know she's in there somewhere. The Ginny I love would never go anywhere." _

_She stood up, studiously avoiding his face. "Exactly."_

_She walked away from him then, not once looking back. Harry watched her go, tears slowly making their way down his cheeks. He looked down at the spot where Ginny had been sitting. There lay a small velvet hair band she must have removed from her hair sometime during the course of the evening. He pressed it to his nose, inhaling the remaining vestiges of Ginny—sunshine and meadows and home. Looking once more at the pond, his reflection starting back at him, alone, he turned on the spot and disappeared._

_Two days later, a letter sat waiting for Ginny on the kitchen table. Making her way down to breakfast, she picked it up from the table, but upon seeing the sender, she burst into tears and ran from the room. Her mother picked it up, wondering what could have upset her daughter so. _

_It was from the Falmouth Falcons._

* * *

><p>"Hey, mate!"<p>

"Ron?" said Harry, answering the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing what you're up to. Apparently you haven't been to work in a few days, and Hermione is concerned. Only she would be concerned about somebody taking a few days off."

He stepped aside, letting Ron into the flat. "If Hermione is the one who's concerned, then why are you here?"

"She threatened to curse me."

Harry nodded sagely, having extensive knowledge of that particular threat. He walked into the kitchen and brought back two bottles of beer, handing one to Ron as he settled himself on the couch.

"Isn't it a bit early for one of these?" asked Ron as he twisted off the cap, taking a drink. "I'm so glad you introduced me to this stuff, much better than anything made by wizards."

Harry turned on the television, watching Ron flip through the channels with abandon, still endlessly fascinated by the moving pictures despite Harry having owned a television for over a decade.

"What did you think of Jordan?" asked Ron, not looking away from the television.

"He seemed like a nice guy. At least he isn't Malfoy."

Ron didn't laugh. "Yeah, he's an alright bloke. But there really isn't anything to him, is there? Just another Ministry paper pusher, albeit a relatively pleasant one."

"I don't really know him that well, Ron."

"Neither do I, but I'd say there's not much to know from what I've seen. Don't know what Ginny sees in him."

"I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

Ron turned to look at him. "Why aren't you the one marrying her?"

Harry was taken aback. "What?"

"I know how much you care for her. It's obvious, really. Why are you letting her be with someone like Jordan. He's really the epitome of not you."

"What did Hermione say to you?" Harry growled.

"Her suspicions, which I happen to share as well."

"You're wrong. Both of you."

He started to panic. He would have never guessed Ron would have picked up on his feelings for Ginny, much less conspire with Hermione to confront him about them. The lack of venom in his voice was surprising, though. He would have never considered Ron would have approved of these feelings.

"Yeah, right, Harry. Hermione wrong?"

"Look, I don't know what she told you, but I don't care about Ginny like that. I care about her as a friend, maybe as a brother, but definitely not like _that_."

Ron snorted. "Harry, don't be an idiot. You may care about me and Fred and George and Charlie like that, maybe even Hermione, but don't even pretend you want to be Ginny's brother."

"But, you said we were supposed to protect her," Harry said, lamely.

"Yeah, from people like Jordan," Ron noticed the confused look on Harry's face. "What? Did you think we wanted to protect her from _you_?"

"Well, yeah," Harry mumbled.

Ron stood up and started pacing, running his hands through his hair.

"Ron?"

"God damn it, Harry. This isn't how it was supposed to be. You're supposed to be with Ginny. You were always supposed to be with Ginny. Now she's gone off with some bland little man and you're going to find some dank hole to crawl into until you die. This isn't right. But it might be too late for you to fix it."

"There's nothing to fix, Ron. Ginny's happy, so I'm happy. She doesn't need me."

"I guess it's pretty easy to convince yourself after spending the better part of two decades telling yourself that."

"It's the truth, Ron," Harry sighed, picking at some lint on his jeans.

Ron crouched down to look Harry in the face. "You're wrong. It's been a very long time, Harry, but things are still the way they've always been between the two of you. Hell, that's probably why you aren't together. Stubborn is all."

"What about you and Hermione?"

"What about us? We never worked together like you and Ginny do. Before you started avoiding her, anyway. I love Hermione to death, Harry. But I couldn't stand being married to her."

Harry put his head in his hands. He was so confused. He had spent so many years convincing himself that this is what was best. Ginny would go off and be happy with somebody else, and he, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley brothers would always be there to look after her, to give her husband a hard time. So many years, gone. Harry knew this was the final straw. It had been easy to deny these facts to Hermione, but not to Ginny's favorite brother.

Harry put his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do, Ron."

Ron put his hand on his shoulder. "You really bollocksed it up this time, Harry. But I'm sure if you just talked to her…"

"I already did. She threw me out."

"Ah, well. Can't say I'm surprised. You were an idiot for twenty years; it's going to take more than a visit and a declaration of love to change her mind."

"So what do I do now?"

"Go see her again."

* * *

><p><em>He was twenty-five and standing under a tree on the shore of the lake. He had just finished a brutal training session with the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, having agreed to help them out as a favor to McGonagall. After spending many hours watching them play, he definitely regretted having agreed to do so. He was just about ready to start walking towards the gates to apparate away, but McGonagall approached him.<em>

"_They're not very good, are they, Harry?"_

"_With a little bit of training, they'll be fine."_

_McGonagall laughed softly. "You're a horrible liar, Harry Potter."_

_They stood next to each other, gazing out at the setting sun's orange rays coloring the lake. It was McGonagall who broke the silence._

"_Watching you grow up, it was a pleasure," she said, surprising him. "You came from such a terrible environment for a child, and here you are, a brave, strong, and confident young man."_

"_Professor?"_

_She smiled softly at him. "You deserve all the happiness in the world."_

_Harry sighed, watching the lake turn a familiar red color. "Then why is it so difficult to find it?"_

* * *

><p>Not for the first time, he wondered if he was insane, approaching them like this. What would they think when he told them, <em>"Yes, I know your daughter is about to be married, but I've been in love with her for the past twenty years and I'm just getting around to admitting it, and oh these biscuits are absolutely delicious, Molly."<em> A brilliant plan, as per usual.

"Harry! What a wonderful surprise," Molly said, gesturing him inside.

"I hope you weren't in the middle of something, I just wanted to stop by quick."

"We're never too busy for you, Harry," she said.

Even after all these years, Harry couldn't stop the emotions that rose, unbidden, at being included as part of the Weasley family. He didn't think the Weasleys would ever really be able to understand what it meant to him, an orphan boy, raised to believe he was a worthless burden, to finally have someone treat him as one of their own.

"So, Harry, what can we do for you?" asked Arthur as Harry entered the kitchen.

"Well, there was actually something I wanted to talk to the two of you about."

Molly set a plate of biscuits down in front of him, taking a seat at the table next to her summer. Harry picked one off the plate, chewing it slowly as he mulled over his thoughts.

"These biscuits are delicious, Molly," said Harry, reaching for another one and mentally slapping himself for saying it.

"Eat up, Harry. You're looking much too thin."

Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable outrage at his words.

"I wanted to talk to the two of you about something and it can't wait anymore."

"Are you in trouble, Harry?" asked Arthur, voicing the concern apparent in both the Weasley parents.

"In a manner of speaking." Harry tried for a grin, failing miserably. He ran his hands through his hair. "There's no easy way for me to say this, but…I think I'm in love with your daughter."

Silence met his declaration. They sat there, regarding each other. Harry couldn't help but fidget, knowing he needed to say this, but afraid of what the repercussions could be. He loved Ginny Weasley, but he couldn't bear to lose the love of the rest of her family either.

It was Arthur who broke the silence.

"Harry…You've put us in a difficult position. We love you like a son, and wouldn't want anything to happen that would change that, but Ginny is our daughter."

"I understand, sir." Harry stood up to leave.

"Sit down, Harry," said Molly, not unkindly. "This would be different if you had come to us before Ginny was engaged. To be honest, Arthur and I would have loved nothing more than for you to marry her, but things are different now."

Once again, Harry was shocked into silence. He had spent so long convincing himself that the Weasleys were better off without him married to Ginny, that these simple statements from her parents were causing his world to crash down around him. If only he hadn't been so foolish, so reluctant, so afraid, he'd be the one getting married to Ginny. Now though, maybe Ginny was right, never was better.

"We'd love to see you with our daughter," said Arthur. "But we can't rightly support you being with her right now. She made a choice, and we support that choice, even if we think it may not be the best one."

"Jordan is a wonderful man," Molly added. "He's just not as wonderful as you."

"So what do you think I should do?"

Arthur spoke, looking conflicted. "I'm sorry, Harry. But we can't help you here. I…we wish we could help you, but this is between you and our daughter."

"Harry," said Molly. "If things are meant to work out, they will. You've both been through too much to not find the happiness you deserve."

"All you can do is speak with her, Harry. If she wants to try for something with you, then that's her choice. But don't you dare try and force her to do something she doesn't want to do. She is going to be married soon, and if you ruin this for her, then there'll be hell to pay." Harry was taken back by the strong words of the normally mild mannered Weasley patriarch. "You make things right, Harry Potter, no matter what that may be."

Harry didn't say anything to that. Sitting and munching a biscuit, trying to sort things out in his head. He knew what the Weasleys were saying were true: it would be wrong to break up Ginny's engagement. But he couldn't help but focus on the fact they said they'd love to see him with Ginny. He was conflicted and the people he usually came to for advice in these matters couldn't provide it to him.

He said goodnight to the Weasleys, promising to give this issue much contemplation before he decided on a course of action. With one last round of hugs and a round of warm goodbyes—despite Arthur's warning earlier—he accepted a tin of biscuits from Molly and went out the front door, disappearing into the night.

* * *

><p>"<em>Thanks," said Harry, accepting the glass of firewhiskey from Bill.<em>

"_Happy Christmas, Harry. Did you get what you wanted?"_

"_Of course. Any gift I receive from your family is more than enough."_

_Bill followed Harry's gaze to where it rested on a certain female Weasley. "Life is too short to not go after what you want, Harry." _

_Harry didn't say anything. He and Bill stood there for a long time. No words were spoken, but each man knew where the other stood. It would be the last time he saw Bill alive._

* * *

><p>"Have you talked to her? The wedding is in a few days you know."<p>

"I know when here wedding is, Hermione. But no, I haven't spoken to her yet. I'm still not sure what to say."

"Damn it, Harry. I've been with you this whole time, but if you keep dragging your feet and resort to disrupting the ceremony or chasing her down on her honeymoon, then I think my involvement in this ordeal will be over."

"I'm not going to do anything like that, Hermione. You should know me better than that."

"The Harry Potter I knew would have done something years ago. He wouldn't have slunk around like a coward, using any means available to him to avoid having to acknowledge his feelings."

"I haven't been avoiding anything."

Hermione looked at him, arms crossed. She wouldn't be moved, Harry could tell. Maybe she had a point. It's not like he went out of his way to avoid her; there may have been a few times he had thrown his Invisibility Cloak over his head when Ginny entered a room, but it had absolutely nothing to do with her.

"Maybe a little." Harry conceded.

"Mmmhmm," said Hermione, handing Harry a butterbeer she had summoned from the kitchen. "And what do you plan on saying to her?"

"I haven't said I was going to go talk to her yet."

"I might as well just go then," said Hermione, walking over to the door. "The wedding is in a few days and by then the race will have been lost."

"Hermione," called Harry, stopping her at the door. "I'm saying…I'm going to tell her I've been a fool, I love her, and I want her to give me a chance."

"She's engaged, Harry. You're going to have to be a little more convincing than that."

"What more do you want me to say?"

Hermione crossed her legs, looking at her hands resting on her knee. She didn't say anything for quite some time.

"Hermione?"

"No, you're right. You shouldn't say anything more. You're not exactly known for your eloquence, after all. Anything else will feel contrived. Make sure you don't give her anything romantic either."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Hermione. That makes me feel like the perfect man for Ginny."

"No, don't you see? You're exactly the kind of guy Ginny wants, because all she's wanted is you. She's told me a couple of times about how she appreciates all the presents and what not Jordan showers her with, but it makes her uncomfortable. She wants someone who can show how much he loves her with a look, a touch. Not garish displays and saccharin poetry."

"She really said that?"

"Yes, it was soon after they got together. I think she was trying to give me a hint. A hint I believe I passed along." Hermione looked pointedly at Harry.

"Yes, well there was no sense of urgency then. Now I understand." Harry checked his watch. "In fact, I may head over to her place right now. It's time to put this to rest, no matter how it ends."

Hermione rose, giving Harry a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck."

Harry watched Hermione shut the door behind her. Grabbing an envelope off of the table, he followed Hermione out the door.

* * *

><p>"<em>There you go, good as new."<em>

"_Thanks, Mr. Potter. I hope I get to see you again real soon!"_

_Harry smiled as he watched the little boy leave the children's ward with his mother. The one negative of healing was that you never wanted to see your patients again, no matter how much you enjoyed treating them._

"_You know, Mr. Potter," said Mrs. Chamberlain, his supervisor, walking up behind him. "When you first applied here, I thought they hired you only for your name. But you've proven me wrong. You're an excellent healer, and you'll receive my full recommendation when you have your license application reviewed next week."_

"_Thanks, Mrs. Chamberlain, that really means a lot to me."_

"_You deserve it." She checked her watch. "In fact, why don't you take off now? It's almost the end of your shift as it is and I'm sure you'd rather be anywhere else than here."_

_Harry looked away, unable to stop Ginny's face from appearing in his mind's eye. "There's nothing for me out there."_

* * *

><p>The door opened before Harry had a chance to knock.<p>

"I heard you apparate," responded Ginny to Harry's unasked question. "What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in? Only for a minute, I promise."

Ginny moved silently to the side, allowing Harry to enter the flat. Signs of her impending nuptials littered the small sitting room. The sofa was covered with a pile of garishly colored fabric, magazines littered the floor, and some horrible sound was emanating from the wireless.

"What do you want?" asked Ginny from behind Harry, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"Look, I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now," he mindlessly adjusted his glasses, "but I just wanted to say…"

"No, Harry, don't say a word. You made it quite clear how you felt the last time you were here."

Harry looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

"My answer is still the same. If you've felt this way for so long, you should have said something sooner. Fifteen years sooner. I'm going to marry Jordan, a man whom I love."

"You may care for him, Ginny, but do you love him? Really love him?"

She looked away. "Yes. I have to."

Harry crossed the room to stand in front of her, placing his fingers under her chin and gently raising her eyes to look into his. They stood staring into each other's eyes for what felt like to Harry an eternity, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. He saw visions of what was, what could have been, and what could be in those dark, chocolate eyes.

"Do you?" he whispered.

"I don't know," she said, moving infinitesimally closer to Harry with each passing second.

Harry resisted the urge to crush his lips to her with every fiber of his being. If this was going to happen, Ginny was going to have to make the first move. No matter how long it took, or how frustrated he became waiting for her to make it. He had caused Ginny quite a bit of frustration over the years; turnabout was fair play.

Inches from his face, she stopped, visibly shaking her head. She backed away from Harry, wrapping her arms around herself. Harry couldn't prevent a strangled moan from escaping.

"No," she said, steeling her resolve, "I love him. I may have loved you once, Harry Potter, but not anymore."

"But, Ginny…"

"I don't know if you're a coward, or the bravest man I know," she said, almost to herself. "Why did you wait so long to say something?"

"I've been trying to tell myself I was doing it to try and protect you, but in the end, I guess I was just afraid of damaging my relationship with you and your family. You're all I have in this world." He looked at her, expecting to see sympathy, or at least some sort of neutral expression on her face as she considered this. What he did not expect to see was anger marring her beautiful features.

"Twenty years, Harry, and this is all you have to say for yourself? You were afraid of being rejected? You don't think my parents and brothers care for you enough that one little dustup between the two of us would lead them to stop treating you as family?" Ginny snorted. "You're my mother's favorite son, after all."

"I know that now…"

"Too bad you didn't figure that out a long time ago."

"Is it really too late for me, for _us_, Ginny?"

Harry waited with bated breath, taking confidence in the fact she was hesitating in responding. He couldn't help feeling like a malevolent force in her life, trying to persuade her to at least delay, if not break off her marriage, but damn it, if he was going to be selfish only once in his life, this was the time. This was his opportunity to right the wrongs of the past twenty years, and all he needed was for Ginny to give him a chance.

"Yes. I may have loved you many years ago, Harry, hell maybe I still love you, but I can't throw away the life I've built on a whim. Not for you, not anymore."

"Ginny?"

"Yes, Harry?"

He took one of her hands in his, rubbing his thumb softly across her knuckles.

"I know I made an enormous mistake not coming to you sooner. But if you would just give me a chance to make this right, I have no doubt in my mind I could make you the happiest woman in the world. I love you, Ginny Weasley. I have for a long time now, and nothing will ever make me stop."

Ginny locked gazes with him, not taking notice of the tears leaking out the corner of her eyes. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Harry looked at her quizzically.

"Jordan will make me happy. We'll have a couple of kids and have a nice quiet life somewhere. But he's never been able to make my heart pound or turn my blood to fire like you, or I suppose the thought of you, has. But I can't take the chance. I can't give away the promise of happiness with Jordan for the possibility of happiness with you."

Harry took no notice of his own tears. "Are you sure? There's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"I've thought a lot about this since you showed up here a few weeks ago. And no matter how much I want to do it, I can't give it all up. Not even for you."

Harry looked at the ground, his world falling to pieces. It had seemed so easy before he had arrived. He would come over here, say a few choice words, and Ginny would be his. But just as he had discovered over the last twenty-two years, life rarely works out the way you want it to.

Harry sighed, pushing himself to his feet, wiping away his tears. He grabbed the envelope he had thrown onto a chair when he first arrived and handed it to Ginny.

"Here," he said, handing the envelope to her. "A little something to remember me by. I hope you never forget what we had."

He kissed her on the cheek and walked towards the door. Right before he closed the door behind him, he heard her open the envelope and look at the picture inside, whispering to herself.

"I could never forget."

* * *

><p>"<em>Why don't you try and find another girl? It's not as if you'd have any trouble finding a date," said Hermione, handing him another beer.<em>

_He was thirty-six years old, and had just broken up with Amanda Pennings, a woman he had been in a relationship with for almost three years. She had wanted him to commit to her._

"_None of them are her."_

_Hermione sighed, this was a conversation they had had many times over the last few years. "If you're not going to say anything to her, which, knowing you, is the most likely occurrence, then why don't you try and forget about her."_

_Harry answered, his voice barely audible. "I could never forget her."_

* * *

><p>It was the night before Ginny's wedding, and he sat alone in his apartment, progressing quite quickly through a bottle of scotch. He had begged off the small celebration the Weasley's were having, with the excuse that he was a bit under the weather and didn't want to be sick for the wedding tomorrow. He doubted they believed him, but he knew they understood.<p>

It was for the best, Harry knew. He had no right to expect Ginny to give up her entire life for him, especially after he had spent the last two decades refusing to go out on a limb for her. He had depended on the love of the Weasley's the entirety of his magical life, but he would never know what life would be like with the love of the Weasley he wanted the most.

It was at this moment he knew he would never be able to sit through her wedding tomorrow. He couldn't bear to watch Ginny walk down the aisle into the arms of another man. All of them would be displeased, but he knew it was for the best. He didn't want to cast a dark shadow over what should be a happy occasion for Ginny and her family. Hermione would probably curse him when he got back, but it would be worth it. His happiness truly did depend upon Ginny's; even though she would never be his, her having found love with someone did make Harry happy. Just not happy enough to watch her make it final. He had been running away for twenty-two years, what difference would another few weeks make?

Decision made, he walked into his bedroom, haphazardly tossing some clothes and toiletries into a bag. It was time for a vacation. He'd send an owl to St. Mungo's once he arrived—from somewhere warm—but he knew they wouldn't complain. The Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Won, would have no problem cashing in vacation time on short notice. Jamaica was beautiful this time of year.

He turned off all of the lights, and securing his apartment, he opened the door, preparing to apparate. Instead of the sight of an empty corridor—or the visage of his feline smelling elderly next-door neighbor, Mrs. Phillips—he was expecting, the familiar red tresses and wildflower smell of Ginny Weasley jumping back in surprise was what greeted him.

"Ginny?"

"Oh, Harry, hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"I, um, came to give you this."

He opened the package she gave him. It was a picture. So similar to the one he had sitting on his mantle, and the copy he gave her yesterday, he thought for a moment she was giving it back to him again. But upon a closer look, he noticed a few differences. They both looked older, and he recognized the stupid little goatee he tried to grow when he was nineteen. This wasn't from their sixth year, it was from Ginny's graduation.

He looked at her, at a loss for words.

"I thought you'd appreciate it."

With all previous resolve to give Ginny Weasley up forever gone, he wrapped her in a warm hug and kissed her. Kissed her with all of the feeling and passion he had allowed to simmer for twenty-two years. She returned his kiss, matching him move for move, feeling for feeling. It took everything he had to break himself away. He took a step back, taking a deep breath.

"I'm really sorry, Ginny. I shouldn't have done that."

She put a hand on his cheek, a warm smile on her face. Her eyes were lit with a fire he hadn't seen directed at him in a very long time. "That's alright, Harry, that's actually what I came here to talk to you about." She noticed his now forgotten bag sitting lopsidedly on the floor. "Say, are you going somewhere?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Actually, you see..."

She put a finger on his lips, and spoke, still with the fire alight in her eyes and the smile on her face.

"Take me with you."


End file.
